Driftwood

You know how things are with old classmates, or former co-workers?

At one time you were close, forced together in a daily routine that kept your orbits circling round each other. You knew what they ate for lunch on Tuesdays, what their favorite kind of music was, and how they always got annoyed by calls from their mother. If they changed up their routine with a new haircut or sweater, you knew the moment it happened. They didn't need to notify you of the small changes, never mind the major ones, because you were always there, sharing the experience with them, watching from the sidelines.

But things changed. You graduated, got a new job, moved to Kansas, and your relationship had to change. You swore you'd stay in touch. You'd call. You'd write. And you did... for a while. Then it took a few weeks longer to return that email or phone call. Next time, a few months. "We'll get together in the spring," you promised, until summer passed without a single contact. You got busy. You got distracted by your own joys, your own sorrows, and forgot to reach out. Seasons went by. Years. You drifted apart.

From time to time, you think of them, and want to reach out. But now, there is a gulf between you. Not only time, but life has passed. So many things have happened in the months and years since you last spoke. You're overwhelmed by how much you'd have to explain. Is it worth that amount of effort, to rekindle a once comfortable relationship? Where would you begin?

And then you think - Maybe it isn't worth it at all. Maybe we don't have anything in common anymore. Maybe I'm not the same person I was when I knew them anyway. Maybe it's time to just let the relationship go, to accept that it's over.

***
I was reading through old emails last weekend, trying to clean things up and clear out virtual clutter. I saw emails from old co-workers and friends I haven't spoken to in years. Some, almost a decade. Most don't even know I got married, never mind the fact that Ethan exists. They don't know all I've been through in the past few years. Frankly, I don't feel like bringing them up-to-date. I would need a week to bring them up to speed on the past year, never mind the past five.

Lately, I've felt similarly about my blog. It's been six weeks since I last wrote, and it seems like an eternity. I have no energy to read or write or do anything lately. When I can spare a few minutes, do I really want to write a quick story without explaining the context? There is so much I want to say, but as more time passes, there are more gaps to fill in. It overwhelms me, so I give up and go to sleep instead.

Yes, things are fine. There are no major catastrophes or "miracles" to share. Just little things. The daily happenings from a house of chaos.

Thanks to CG's daycare, we've all been sick for about two months straight, including Ethan. Still, he started school and seems to like it. His seizure and GI meds have all been changing. He had a sleep study done. I think his hips are getting worse. Again.

CG graduated from Early Intervention and no longer gets speech therapy. He's sleeping in a big boy bed every night now, but the pacifier is a whole other problem. With all the change in the house, he's become aggressive with his friends at daycare.

We had our 19 week ultrasound, and things went okay this time. We found out the gender of the baby. A week later, I had a bad experience with a different doctor and lost what little confidence I'd mustered up. I'm still being watched like a hawk, which makes me feel better and worse all at the same time.

I've been up, but mostly I've been down. I've gone back into therapy again. I'm trying to climb up from this hole I've fallen into. I'm trying not to let the past drag me down. I'm trying to focus on the little joys, and not get tangled up in the big worries. I'm doing all I can to hold onto hope when the echo of experience tells me not to believe in happy endings.

I miss hope. I miss being able to breathe through my nose. I miss having energy and passion. I miss reading and commenting on blogs. I miss writing. I miss using my blog to get things out of my head, to talk through ideas and share feelings and find out I'm not so alone.

But I know that I needed this break from writing. As I told Bad Experience Doctor, I know my limits. I work full-time. I have a severely disabled child. Ethan has had almost a dozen doctor's appointments and lab visits since January. I've been going to prenatal appointments every other week, plus other appointments that have nothing to do with pregnancy. Plus, I have a husband and a toddler who need their own time and attention. I'm doing the best that I can. And I have no regrets.

Except... maybe, staying up until 11:30 and rambling for a few dozen paragraphs probably wasn't the best decision.

But other than that. Definitely, no regrets.

More to come. At a more reasonable hour, of course.